


First Lesson

by deathtouchwlw (deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:49:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/pseuds/deathtouchwlw
Summary: Femfeb 2020 | FanficBrigitte gets her first lesson as a sex slave with her new owner, Sombra.
Relationships: Brigitte Lindholm/Sombra | Olivia Colomar
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	First Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

“Water break!” The foreman called across the quarry. 

Brigitte stopped mid swing, easing her pick ax back down from it’s raised position. It was that odd time of year where it was too cold for comfort in the mornings and blazing hot by noon. The sun was high in the sky now, and she was sweating. Even with her hair pulled up, the back of her neck was wet. She lifted the hem of her thin, ragged shirt. She wiped the perspiration from her face and, unintentionally, rubbed dirt into her skin; rough and gritty.

She and the rest of the workers abandoned their axes, some leaning theirs delicately against the rocks nearby and others tossing theirs flat into the dirt. Brigitte wandered slovenly towards the slowly forming queue. She was in no hurry. The longer she took to line up and sip down her serving of water, the longer she would have for a break. 

She was doing alright today. He shoulders only hurt a little, and her side wasn’t killing her yet. By the end of the day she would be miserable, muscles screaming in pain, feet numb in her heavy boots, aching all the way into her bones. She would take her water break and savor the reprieve from work and maybe if she didn’t exert herself too much she wouldn’t be dead the moment she hit the pillow in her bunk later tonight.

“Brig.” One of the other workers poked her too hard in the shoulder. She glanced back to see Fernández. For a man as big and burly looking as he was, he gossiped more than the girls at the manor house Brigitte had been brought up in. 

They’d get in trouble for talking in line; scolded at best, punished at worst. The last thing she needed was to be denied today’s meal or be forced to work an extra hour of labor. She resolutely ignored Fernández, following the line as it slowly moved forward. 

“Have you seen the blue hats?” He whispered under his breath. 

She had, in fact, seen the folks wearing blue hats around the work site. Individuals in sharp looking uniforms all wearing the same color scheme of grey and teal and baby blue. Sometimes with flecks of yellow thrown in for panache. 

“New management,” Fernández continued. 

Brigitte moved closer to the front of the line, watching ahead as the foreman dunked cups into a cask of water and handed the dripping, overflowing containers off to workers, not caring if he spilled. She was seventh from the front. Sixth. Fifth. 

Fernández’ whisper grew quieter, but he didn’t stop talking. “We’ll all have new owners in a week’s time. They’ll be separating out the workers. Pulling the pretty ones, like you. You’ll end up a house slave soon enough ...if you’re lucky.” 

Brigitte bristled at the idea. She had heard the rumors about new owners, but she hadn’t heard anything about being separated. Then again if she was likely to hear rumors from anyone it would be Fernández.   
  
She hoped it wasn’t true. Working in the quarry was miserable, sure, but she would take this over being a personal servant any day. She was no good at serving in a home; working in a manor as a child had taught her that. House work was one thing but caring for babies? Cooking? Helping the mistress with clothes and make up and curling her hair? 

She didn’t know anything about sex either. Hadn’t been trained for it; didn’t know how to do it. No one bothered with untrained sex slaves. Besides, she may be pretty around the quarry but out there? In the rest of the world? She was nothing special.  
  


* * *

  
The cuffs around Brigitte’s wrists were heavy, unrefined iron. The chains connecting them clanked dully with each movement. She had a horrible feeling swarming around inside of her, like she had swallowed her own beating heart and it was threatening to come back up. She was anxious, afraid, and angry all at once. 

“How about this one right here.” A blue hat gestured to her. “Nice and strong. She’ll never get tired of helping around the house.” 

Brigitte bit back a comment. She had already caught a beating this week. The back of her legs from her thighs to her calves were purple and blue simply from daring to question why they were pulling her from work. She should have known better than to question anyone above her, really. She just didn’t want to believe Fernández’ rumors were true. 

They were true, though. The old foremen were all gone, it was nothing but men and women in blue hats anymore. She and a couple dozen other females were pulled, chained up in cuffs like runners, and lead to the main gates. All yesterday and today buyers came to bid and one by one on the women workers who had been plucked from their lives of manual labor to go be house servants, or prostitutes, or worse. 

There were only a handful left. Brigitte towered among them, a head higher than nearly everyone there. No one would want her lumbering about in their home, or scaring off all the clients at a whorehouse. Maybe she could work security at the latter? That would be a best case scenario. 

More likely she would be sold to some witch who would cut her throat, bag up her blood, and grind her bones for powder. She had bigger bones and more blood than anyone else left. She was a bargain buy.   
The potential buyer - who may or may not have been a witch, it was hard to tell - made a contemplative face. She was interested. Brigitte was trying to sort her out. She looked so young? So surprisingly pretty? She was way too pretty to be around a dusty, dirty old quarry like this. Even if they were far from the actual dig site.   
  
She didn’t look like the typical lady found in manor houses, or even the socialite types that lived in high rise apartments. She had weird hair, dangerous looking make-up, and odd clothes. Brigitte couldn’t imagine where she lived or what she did for a living or why she was here perusing manual labor slaves. 

“I’m not sure if this is what I’m looking for,” the woman said, but it was less of a statement and more of an invitation for someone to convince her that yes, this was exactly what she was looking for.  
  
“What are you looking for?” The blue hat jumped in, ready for the task of convincing. “I’m sure we have precisely what you need.” 

“A sex slave,” the woman replied plainly. 

Brigitte blushed at the bluntness. 

The blue hat took this in stride. “Well, our slaves may not be trained sex slaves, but you can still have sex with them.” There was a long pause where he seemed to think he’d said enough to win this woman over, and she seemed to be waiting for more. It took him a moment to keep going, but he sure did. “That’s the reason sex slaves are so overpriced, isn’t it? You’re paying for all that training. Well, you can skip the middleman and train this one yourself. Train it however you want. Customize it to your preferences.” 

Another long pause. 

“Can I touch?” The woman asked. 

“Please do,” the blue hat encouraged. 

The woman stepped closer, putting herself in Brigitte’s space. She was a head shorter, but height didn’t mean much when one of them was in chains and the other wasn’t. She tipped Brigitte’s chin up, looking critically at her face for a moment. She seemed thoughtful, pleased even. Her fingers found Brigitte’s square shoulders, and the strong muscles of her upper arms. They had grown bigger than ever working here at the quarry, and they were stiff and firm when squeezed. 

There was obviously something else she wanted to get her hands on, though. Her fingers dipped under the thin scrap of fabric Brigitte wore as a shirt, pushing it up to reveal her bare breasts underneath. Brigitte blushed harder. She had been paraded around naked at other auctions before, she shouldn’t be so embarrassed, and yet she was. Especially when this woman grabbed both of her tits and squeezed. It didn’t hurt, but Brigitte found herself making a whimpery little noise anyway. 

“You’re cute,” the woman told her, thumbs circling distractingly over Brigitte’s sensitive nipples until they grew hard. “Any good in bed?” 

Brigitte didn’t know what the right answer was. “I’ve never… before,” she said vaguely, somehow managing to reply despite the attention being paid to her breasts. 

This only earned her a cocked brow in response. 

“Hm.” The woman pulled back, but left Brigitte’s shirt rucked up so that she might admire the view. She tipped her head, tapped her chin, and pulled her mouth to the side. “...I’ll take her.”   
  


* * *

  
Things had been a whirlwind for Brigitte since she left the quarry and started her new life as a sex slave. She hadn’t actually had any sex yet, but the rest of it was going relatively well. Sombra, her new owner, had acid wit and a tough exterior but all of her actions lead Brigitte to believe she was actually rather kind and considerate. 

Brigitte was given her own room, with a real bed and not a bunk. It was weirdly squishy and soft. She wasn’t given any clothes though. The scrap of a shirt and ripped overalls she had worn at the quarry were taken from her. Sombra told her she was going to be kept naked from now on, and might as well get used to it. 

Instead of clothes, Brigitte now wore a collar. It was bright red and shiny. It looked more like jewelry than anything else. She kind of liked it? Sombra experimented with giving her other things to wear. Lingerie, frilly socks, wrist cuffs and anklets. Even a golden chain harness that draped between her breasts and wrapped around her middle. Although it looked pretty it was annoying to wear, and Brigitte was glad when Sombra decided she didn’t like it. 

It had been nearly a week since she first arrived and Brigitte was finally getting all the grime of the quarry off her skin. Sombra ordered her to wash every day whether she was dirty or not. She gave Brigitte fancy soaps and shampoos to use and didn’t care how long she took or if she used hot water. Her nails were clean, she could practically count all her freckles, and her hair was soft now from all the washing. It was nice?

Sombra was a night owl. She closed herself off in her rooms and stayed up till the early hours of the morning. Doing what? Brigitte didn’t know. She didn’t ask, either. It wasn’t her place. It was nice not to be watched like a hawk like she had been by the foremen and blue hats. It did feel a little lonely, though. 

Brigitte didn’t know what to do with herself all day. She didn’t want to push any boundaries by touching things she wasn’t allowed to touch or going into rooms she wasn’t allowed to go in. She mostly stayed in her own room because she wasn’t sure what else to do.

Sombra said she wanted Brigitte to be comfortable in her home before the training would begin. Brigitte was almost looking forward to it, glad for a task. A part of her was dreading it too, though. What if she hated it it? What if she was bad at it? This was her life now… she would be stuck with it, either way.   
  


* * *

  
“First lesson,” Sombra said, holding up one finger. 

Brigitte was staring up at her owner from where she knelt on the floor, naked as the day she was born. Sombra was naked too, sitting at the end of the massive king sized bed. Their bodies were so different. Sombra’s skin was warm brown, and she had none of the freckled spots Brigitte had. She was thinner all over, and her bones were defined rather than her muscles. She was pretty, though. Much prettier than Brigitte, in Brigitte’s own opinion. 

“Use your tongue,” Sombra continued. “Don’t be shy. Dive right in, I’ll let you know what you’re doing wrong.” 

There were plenty of things Brigitte wasn’t good at, but she always gave it her all when learning something new. It was how she ended up in manual labor instead of as a servant. A few lessons in learning how to use tools and fix things around the house, and suddenly she was doing that instead. 

She wanted to be good at this too. She was going to try…

Brigitte had never really seen another woman’s parts before, just her own fuzzy mound when she looked down. With Sombra’s legs spread neatly, she could see lips like flower petals and intricate pinkness. How she was meant to use her tongue on it, she didn’t know, but she tentatively leaned in.

It tasted salty and strange, and it was so much warmer than she was expecting. She was tempted to pull away from it, just because it was unfamiliar. It wasn’t bad, though. Not really. Even if she didn’t know what she was doing. She licked curiously, exploring the lines and folds with her tongue, following them. 

Sombra wrapped a fist around her ponytail and pulled her head back by her hair. Not painfully, thankfully. She had one of her eyebrows ticked up again, the same way she did when she was puzzled by some small aspect of Brigitte’s behavior. Apparently Brigitte did a lot of things that were ‘funny’ or ‘weird’ like asking if she was really allowed to use soap, and if she could drink as much water as she wanted, and did she have to do any extra work to earn food. 

“Nah-ah.” Sombra shook her head. “Not like that.”

The disapproval hit Brigitte hard. She was trying, but she hadn’t been given any instruction. She had to swallow her self-reproach and focus. Sombra had told her she would correct her. She wasn’t in trouble, she wouldn’t be punished. She just had to learn on the go, here. 

With her free hand, Sombra reached between her legs to spread herself open a little. With one finger still pressing some of the pinkness aside, she used her index finger to stroke over a very small section, drawing attention to it. “Focus on the clit, here.” 

Oh, so the parts had names. Clit. Brigitte would remember that. It was… higher up than she was expecting? It seemed like the rest at the bottom would be left out and lonely, but she would do as Sombra told her. She nodded and said “Yes, miss.” (Sombra liked to be called miss instead of ma’am.)

Sombra guided her head back, using her grip on Brigitte’s hair. Brigitte tried again. It was hard because she couldn’t see, she just had to feel with her tongue. “Higher,” Sombra told her, and Brigitte followed her instructions. She still wasn’t quite sure how she was meant to lick, but she did her best. 

Another quick tug on her ponytail and Brigitte drew back. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, looking up at Sombra expectantly for more corrections. 

“Just do what feels good for you.” 

Brigitte drew a complete blank at that. She had never… not even touched. When would she? The slave quarters at the manor she grew up in was filled with her family, and they were a big family. Then it was off to the quarry, and she had been in bunks filled with people then. Sure, some of them had sex with each other, but none of them were interested in her. 

“I… haven’t..” Brigitte wasn’t sure how to phrase it. She found herself blushing and she didn’t even know why, because nothing else about the sex up until this point had phased her. 

“You’ve never touched yourself?” Sombra asked, almost incredulous. 

Brigitte swallowed nervously, wondering if now was when she would get in trouble. 

Sombra sighed, or laughed maybe? A funny little exhale of air. “Shit, alright.” She let go of Brigitte’s hair and stood up. 

Yeah, this was it. Brigitte had pushed it too far. She was too unskilled. Too useless. She wasn’t even learning right. She was going to be punished now, or thrown out into the gutter, or sold off to someone else. At least she’d had a restful week, and a nice bed to sleep in for a few days. 

“Get on the bed… lay down in the middle, on your back.” 

Brigitte looked up. She wanted to ask, to question, but the last thing she needed was to make more trouble. So, she got up. She climbed into bed, sitting herself down in the middle before laying back entirely. She found her head among the pillows. She felt a little awkward, unsure of what was about to happen next. 

“Spread your legs.” Sombra did it for her, pushing her knee up so that it was tented. Brigitte went along with it, mirroring the movements with her other leg. “I’ll show you this one time, and then you’ll know what to do when you go down on me. So, pay attention. Got it?” 

Brigitte felt her face burning with a blush again. Sombra? Was going to lick her between her legs? A slave’s task, and she was doing it willingly? Again, Brigitte wanted to question, to protest. 

“Got it?” Sombra repeated, a little sharper. 

“Yes, miss,” Brigitte agreed, though she didn’t get it at all. 

And then Sombra was climbing onto the bed too, settling between her legs. Brigitte tensed up all over like she was expecting a blow, and instead she felt finger tips touching her where no one else had ever touched her before. It tickled in a way, and it made her want to squirm. Then Sombra pressed her wet, warm lips to Brigitte and she did squirm. A cry of surprise escaped her. 

It felt… It felt! It felt like nothing she had ever felt before. Like the salivation before eating sour candy, but deep between her legs. Bright like a bulb about to burn out, her private parts pulsing. Sombra’s tongue touched her, her clit if Brigitte was guessing, and it was such a sensation that her back bowed up off the bed and she was whimpering. 

Sombra pulled back, and she laughed? Not like this was funny, but more like it was pleasing. “Stop squirming so much,” she said, a teasing tone in her voice. 

Brigitte had lost all of her breath. She wasn’t even sure how or when that had happened, all she knew was that now she was panting. She forced her muscles to untense, relaxing back as best she could. She tried to tip her head down to watch, to see what Sombra would do next, but her collar dug in when she tried so she stared up at the ceiling instead. 

“Grab the covers, okay? Squeeze’em tight when it gets intense. Don’t crush my head with your thighs.” 

Oh. Brigitte hadn’t even noticed but her legs had jolted too. She settled them back, and hurriedly reached for handfuls of the blankets instead, gripping them like they were a lifeline. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then Sombra dipped in again. 

Her tongue sent a bolt of lightning through Brigitte’s body. She cried out again, gripping the sheets intensely. It was so good it brought tears to her eyes. She could feel the little circular movements of Sombra’s tongue, the attention she paid to the same spot. It overwhelmed her. She had to fight against squirming away, gasping, and whimpering shamelessly. 

It just didn’t stop! Each moment more intense, each flick of the tongue ratcheting the tension of her body up more and more. Every time she thought it was too much, that she couldn’t possibly take any more, the maddening pleasure doubled. 

And then it really hit her. A bright, fiery burn of pleasure that rolled through her entire body. Her muscles seized and her eyes rolled back. She couldn’t even gasp, or cry out. She could only tremble as the climax of all this pleasure crashed through her. She thought she may have passed out. Or died, even; it felt that good. 

When she came back to herself a few moments later, air desperately pushing itself into her lungs as she suddenly caught her breath, Sombra was crawling up to lay beside her. She had an especially pleased expression on her face, much happier than she had been before. She laid down on her stomach next to Brigitte, smirking at her.

“Easy,” she laughed. “Relax okay. You need me to tell you? You can let go of the sheets now.” 

Brigitte hadn’t been waiting on permission, she’d just forgotten everything except for that mind-blowing sexual experience. She did unclench the sheets though, fingers aching with how tight she’d gripped them up. 

A lot of things made sense now. She suddenly got why sex slaves were so popular. Why whorehouses existed, and why they were frequented by so many. She also understood why all her previous efforts at pleasing Sombra had gone awry. She hadn’t been half as adept with her tongue. She knew now. She would do it right. 

“Okay,” Brigitte breathed. “Okay. I’m ready, miss. I’ll try again.” 

Sombra had taken to staring at Brigitte’s bare breasts and the way they heaved with each breath. She glanced up to Brigitte’s eyes then, eyebrow ticked up in that usual way. She spotted the tears in the corners, not quite shed, and reached out with a knuckle to brush some of the wetness away. 

“Nah, it’s good,” Sombra disagreed. “New first lesson. That’s what it feels like to come.”

Oh. 

Well. 

A fine first lesson, indeed. 

“Catch your breath, I’m going to show you how good fingers can feel next.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking femslash february suggestions year round  
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> femfeb '20 masterpost ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx/status/1223794127822839808?s=20)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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